


coy koi

by calcelmo



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo
Summary: Old friends. You don't think you've ever seen him sleep, although he's seen you sleeping, held you sleeping, more times than you can count.
Relationships: Annette Birkin/William Birkin, William Birkin/Albert Wesker
Kudos: 18





	coy koi

**Author's Note:**

> writer's block is kicking my ass SO HARD.... I really like this pairing and wanted to do something for them.

You don’t hate the little girl kicking and screaming in the cot, or your long-suffering wife who slips tiredly out of bed for the seventh time that night to comfort her. 

You’re surprised Sherry even came into being. There wasn’t much of a window of opportunity. The both of you are married to your work, and when you talk, it is in clipped tones edged with exhaustion. No terms of endearment. No sweetness or softness.

You hate domesticity, and you hate the way the corner of Albert’s mouth turns up in mocking when you raise your head up off your desk, blinking back sleep. You can’t see his eyes and you don’t want to. They will only say, _I told you so._

You were not meant for fatherhood. The ring on your finger is ill-fitting in more ways than one. And yet you can’t bring yourself to take it off. 

“She kept us up _all_ night,” you mutter in lieu of explanation, embarrassed you fell asleep, even though it’s just the two of you.

Old friends. You don't think you've ever seen him sleep, although he's seen you sleeping, held you sleeping, more times than you can count.

“These are the trials of parenthood,” Albert answers, and it’s far too neutral, far too innocent. Your gaze snaps up to meet his through the impenetrable sunglasses, but you’ve known each other for far too long for his amusement to go under your radar.

You stare at him, your nails biting into your palms. “It’s not funny.”

Annette has flinched back from that tone; you don’t use it often. It’s so saturated with the anger you bottle up inside. 

Albert doesn’t flinch. He always meets you there. 

“I know,” he says, raising his shoulders in an elegant shrug- he does everything like that. It's somewhat placating. It’s sympathy, but still that faint air of superiority- _what did you expect would happen?_

Things are different now. The tension remains but you haven’t allowed it to boil over since you married Annette. _We’re men now,_ you’d said, turning away from him and his touch. He never forgave it, and you can’t even blame him. Every day, you ask yourself what you were thinking. Something... something, elation, people watching. Catching Annette's eye. Believing that you could have a family.

Annette offered the illusion of stability. Albert did not. 

He offered a thrill that always walked the line between pain and pleasure; a steady, secretive love, and an outlet for your burning, inexplicable hatred. Sometimes you didn’t know what to _do_ with yourself. He was always there. Guiding, commanding. A hand firm on the nape of your neck.

When you look up at him now, you let it show in your face. You need him. You’re going to destroy your marriage and end up featuring in your child’s worst nightmares if you can’t find an outlet for this awful restlessness.

He takes off his sunglasses for a moment, although he might as well not have. His eyes give nothing away, like stones set into the marble of his face. 

“Regret is a terrible thing, Will,” he remarks. He closes himself off to you. You go back to your work.

You chose domesticity, and you have come to hate it.


End file.
